The OFF Switch
by erpsicle
Summary: College AU. Facing eviction, Batter finds himself working at a bizarre sex shop, alongside a pair of twins, a kickboxing ballerina, a high school student who always smells inexplicably of ham, and a mysterious guy who never takes off his mask. What happens next is up to you. Welcome, dear Reader, to The OFF Switch.


**Welcome, _amigo_, to The OFF Switch: An Interactive Fanfiction Experience. Confused? Bewildered? Let me explain. You want to read about fictional characters fucking each other, preferably in glorious detail. I need to practice writing smut. Maybe we can help each other out?**

**Here's how this is gonna work. I've written the first chapter. I haven't planned anything else. Once you've read it, leave a review. Tell me what you want to see in the next chapter, and I will write it. All pairings are on the table. All kinks are welcome, as long as they don't involve non-con, dub-con or anything too triggering. I WILL WRITE SOMETHING FOR EVERY SINGLE SUGGESTION. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? SMUT IN EVERY MOTHERFUCKING CHAPTER. OH YES. I DON'T CARE IF IT MEANS THIS FIC WILL BE 5 SQUILLION CHAPTERS LONG. I WILL DO EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.**

**Sounds fun, right?**

**You bet your cute lil ass it does. **

**Alright.**

**Let's get this party started, shall we?**

* * *

**The Switch is now on ON**

.

When Batter woke up to find that his power had been cut off sometime during the night, he should have resigned himself to the fact that today was going to be One of Those Days. If he had done that he could have rolled over, gone back to sleep, and tried again tomorrow – but instead he swore, shoved the now useless alarm clock off his bedside table in disgust and threw himself out of bed, tripping on the tangled bedsheets and almost giving himself a bloody nose in the process. By the time he had wrestled free of the overly friendly bedroom kraken, found a shirt that passed the sniff test and retrieved his left shoe from on top of the wardrobe, he was only half an hour late to his second lecture. He stuffed a slice of plain bread into his mouth in place of breakfast, shouldered his gym bag and made for the door, making a mental note to check down the back of the couch for laundry money when he got home.

With a cap shoved down over his uncombed hair, Batter pulled the door shut behind him and fumbled for his keys, still awkwardly clutching his shoe.

"Sleep well?" a voice asked, dripping with sarcasm. Batter groaned around his mouthful of bread. He finished locking the door and turned to face his landlady, swallowing the congealed lump so quickly that he almost choked.

"Good morning," he managed, eyes watering slightly.

"Is it?" Vader asked. The woman stared icily at him from where she was standing against the opposite wall, arms folded. Vader Eloha was a frighteningly tall woman, thin as a rake and with hair so blonde it had to be natural – no one in their right mind would dye their hair the colour of babies' teeth. She had all the warmth of the Antarctic midwinter sun, and none of its charm. "Is it really? Oh my. That must mean you have some rent for me, darling." Her pale lips curled at the look of panic on Batter's face. "Three weeks' worth now, wasn't it?"

Batter dropped his shoe and began to shove his foot into it. "Yeah, okay, I don't have the money yet – but I'm working on it! You'll have it all by Friday, I promise."

"Wednesday."

"What?" Batter was so outraged that he almost forgot to be frightened. "Come on, you know I just lost my job, cut me some slack here, Vadie-"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he winced, knowing that he had just as good as signed his death warrant. Vader's nostrils flared and a muscle in her thin jaw twitched.

"I'd watch the way you speak to me, darling," she breathed, pushing herself off the wall and gliding ephemerally over to him. "I think I've cut you quite enough slack as it is." Batter shrank instinctively against the door as she closed the distance between them. A tendril of her pale hair tickled his cheek as she leaned in, and Batter caught a whiff of honeysuckle.

"I'll have the money _tomorrow_, or you'll be picking your belongings out of the gutter," she whispered sweetly. Batter gulped, doing his best to meld with the wood of the door as her unnaturally blue eyes bore into his. She smiled wolfishly at his discomfort, before reaching up and grabbing his chin. Her nails dug into his skin as she pulled his face towards hers until they were nearly nose to nose. "Good luck finding a landlord willing to be as lenient as I, darling," she said. Batter just stared at her, too afraid to nod in case her vicious fucking talons ripped the skin off his face. She flashed her teeth at him again, then released her iron grip on his jaw and wafted away, no doubt in search of some other unfortunate soul to torment.

Batter slumped against the door to his flat, letting out a breath he had hardly been aware of holding. Suddenly being evicted didn't seem like such a bad idea; at least then he wouldn't have to deal with her Royal Bitchiness the Ice Queen. But there was always the chance of getting landed with someone even more psychotic, if that were possible. How did the saying go? Better the devil you know? Something like that anyway.

Why was he even thinking about this? He had a lecture to get to! Batter hurriedly bent to tie his shoelaces. If he left now and floored it all the way to the campus he figured he could make it time for the tail-end ten minutes. Batter gave the knot a final tug and all but threw himself down the stairs to the lobby, crashed through the doors and sprinted towards his car. It was raining slightly but steadily, and his back and shoulders were uncomfortably damp by the time he reached the beaten-up old ute. He gave the beloved vehicle an affectionate slap on her rust coloured hood – rust coloured because it was, in fact, composed almost entirely of rust – before flinging himself into the front seat. His gym bag landed on the passenger side with a heavy thump and AC/DC blasted from the radio as Batter turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over on the third try and Batter pulled out into the street, the truck's tires swishing through the water on the road.

"_I'm on the highway to hell_," Batter sang along with the radio, accelerating until he was pushing the speed limit. "_I'm on the highway to_- OH JESUS CHRIST!"

He slammed on the brakes; the wheels locked and the ute skidded on the wet road, narrowly missing the bike that had just whirred past in front of him. The truck screeched to a halt alongside the curb and Batter's head snapped forward painfully before slamming back against the headrest. He groaned, fumbling for the door handle. He got it open and spilled out into the street. A car roared past, honking, but Batter ignored it; he was far more concerned by the amount of smoke that was pouring out from beneath the truck's bonnet.

"Oh no, oh baby, no," he moaned, wrenching the hood up and fanning away the smoke. Rain hissed and spat on the red-hot engine. Batter kicked a wheel in frustration. "God DAMN IT!" he yelled.

Great, just fucking great. He threw his hands up in disgust. Why couldn't this have happened a week ago, when he still had that job at the mechanic's and access to all the parts and equipment he needed? Now he'd have to fork out to get it fixed, or buy the parts with all that money he didn't have – and he still had to find some way to pay Vader the three weeks' rent.

"God damn it," he said again. He adjusted his cap, not knowing what else to do. There was no way he was making it to his lecture now. Batter stumped around to the passenger side door and fished in the side pocket of his gym bag for his cell phone. He was debating whether to suck it up and call his old workplace, maybe get one of them to come around and tow it back for him, when a guy on a bicycle came pedalling towards him. Batter recognised him at once; it was the same guy who had narrowly avoided becoming strawberry jam on Batter's wheels a few minutes ago, and the reason Batter's precious baby was now dead and smoking in the gutter. Batter chucked his phone back onto the seat and slammed the door as the guy coasted to a stop, hopping gracefully off the bike and running it the last few feet to the curb. He looked to be around Batter's age, though he was slighter and had a deeper tan. His hair was jet black and hung in damp curls around his ears; his eyes were dark and slightly slanted, almost like a cat's. Ripped black jeans hugged his slender legs and his plain white tee was plastered to his chest by the rain.

"Everything alright?" he asked cheerily, apparently oblivious to the smoke still gushing out of the truck's engine. He shook his hair out of his eyes and grinned.

Batter ogled him in disbelief. Was the guy blind, or just stupid?

"What does it look like?" Batter said, waving at the front of the truck. The guy arched a brow and craned his neck to look, humming thoughtfully as he took in the damage.

"Looks fucked," he said brightly. "Can you fix it?"

"Yeah," Batter said. "Or I _would_, if I had the money." He paused. "On second thought, why should I? you were the one who pulled out in front of me with no fucking warning – you should be the one paying for this!"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_!" the guy said, backing away hurriedly as Batter took a threatening step towards him. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hold on, friend, let's not go making any rash decisions here. Look, I'm sorry about your car, I really am, that was an egregiously idiotic move to pull and I take full responsibility for that, but I'm afraid I'm just as low on funds as you are, and a man's got to eat, right? Wait, wait," he added quickly, as Batter let out a dangerous growl. "Look, I'm sure we can work something out. Here." He fished briefly the pocket of his jeans, withdrew a dog-eared business card, and handed it to Batter with the level of caution usually reserved for handling live cobras.

Batter looked at it uncomprehendingly. "The hell is this?"

"A compromise," the guy explained. "You need money. We need someone to work the late shift. Works out beautifully, right? Almost like our meeting was ordained by the universe itself."

Batter doubted it. "'The OFF Switch, Exotic Curio and Adult Entertainment Emporium'?" he read. Apart from a phone number and address in almost microscopic print, there was nothing else on the card. He looked up at Bicycle Guy. "Oh yeah," he said. Vader would have been proud of the amount of sarcasm he managed to squeeze into just two syllables. "Sounds completely legit." He tossed the card towards the guy, who fumbled to catch it before it got ruined by the rain, and turned back to his ute.

"Aw, don't be like that!" The guy followed him around to the front of the truck. "It's not every day a job like this falls out of the sky, so to speak. What have you got to lose?"

"Forget it," Batter shot back. The engine had finally stopped smoking; he shut the bonnet with a clang, then went to the driver's side door. The guy followed him like a shadow, or a bad smell.

"Wait, I know you," he said. "You go to the college down the road, right?"

Batter grunted. "Yeah, along with a few thousand other people." He reached over and grabbed his bag from the passenger seat, tore his keys out of the ignition, and slammed the door, locking it deftly. He shouldered the bag and set off down the street on foot. There was a muffled curse behind him as the guy rushed back to retrieve his bike, and then he was back, wheeling the thing alongside him.

"No, I mean I've seen you around before," Bicycle Guy explained. "You're the baseball guy, right? I heard you just got fired from that mechanics' place, what's it called… Alma's? So you need a job, right?"

Batter shot him a look. "How do you know about that?"

The guy grinned. "I have my ways," he said.

"Oh yeah? What else have you heard?" he tried to make the question sound as innocent as he could, but frankly he was a little unnerved. As far as he was aware he'd never seen this guy before in his life, yet here he was, knowing more than he should. Just who was this guy?

"Nothing much," he conceded. "Just that you got fired for beating the shit out of one of your coworkers. Is that true?"

Batter looked away. "Yeah, more or less."

"Anger issues?"

Batter glared at him. The guy blinked up at him, grinning innocently. Batter sighed.

"Not really. Just got a problem with people who can't mind their own business."

Bicycle Guy nodded sagely, missing the hint by a spectacular margin. "Right, right. So he outed you and you decked him for his trouble?"

Batter almost tripped. "What?" Heat rushed to his cheeks. "What makes you think-?"

Bicycle Guy laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes again. "Oh honey, please. You've been checking me out ever since you almost hit me with that beast of a truck. You know, if you want to ask a guy out there are easier ways to go about it. Ways that don't involve the very real possibility of hospitalisation." He winked lewdly, and the heat in Batter's cheeks increased.

"That wasn't what I- it was- _you_ were the one who practically threw yourself in front of my car, you freak," he spluttered.

"And _you_ were the one doing nearly 60 k's in a residential area," Bicycle Guy reminded him evenly. "Anyway, I'm spoken for. Sorry to disappoint you, friend."

"I'm not your friend," Batter said.

"Ooh, ouch," the guy laughed. "And here I was thinking we had something special. You know, after nearly killing me with your reckless driving and all. So romantic."

Batter had never been frustrated by a person so much in his life. "No, that's not what I- look, this is ridiculous. I don't even know your name."

Bicycle Guy slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh, how unforgivable of me! I'm so sorry, this is so embarrassing… my name's Pablo, but most people call me Judge." He extended his hand. "Law student," he added, as an answer to Batter's questioning gaze.

Batter took the offered hand, and they shook as they walked. "Batter," he said.

Pablo grinned as he released Batter's hand. "Don't trust me with your real name then, eh?"

"No one uses my real name anyway," Batter said shortly.

"Ooh, quite the mystery man, aren't we?"

Batter sighed again. "Remind me not to brake the next time a lunatic on a bike rides in front of my car," he muttered.

Pablo cupped a hand around his ear. "What was that?"

"Nothing." He raised his eyes to the heavens. _God give me strength_.

He let Pablo prattle on inanely, throwing in a vague noise every now and then to make like he was paying at least some attention. The guy barely seemed to notice. _Sure does love the sound of his own voice_, Batter thought wryly. He wondered what kind of person would have the patience to put up with his endless chatter, and decided that they would either have to be Christ incarnate, or just as unbearable as Pablo himself. Not that it mattered; the chances of him ever meeting Pablo's significant other were happily next to none.

"Well, this is me," Pablo said at length. Batter tugged himself out of his thoughts and realised that they had reached the campus and were standing outside the building that housed the Law School. Pablo must have noticed his dazed expression, because he was giving him an amused look. "Where are you headed?"

"Uh… gym, probably." He hefted his bag slightly. "I already missed my first lectures," he added, shooting a glare at Pablo as though he alone were the root of this morning's chaos.

"Alright," Pablo grinned. "See you then, Batter. You will come by the shop later, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Batter said, giving Pablo a non-committal wave as he turned to leave. "Whatever."

Pablo laughed and gave Batter a playful slap on the ass. "Yes, you will," he said. Batter shot him a withering look over his shoulder, but Pablo merely laughed harder and waggled his fingers. "See you, darling!"

Batter rolled his eyes at the guy's antics, making for the gym with as much speed as dignity would allow. _God, what a piece of work_. He paused. _Cute, though_.

.

He couldn't seem to focus on anything that afternoon. Worries flew around his head like bats, disrupting each and every thought with their incessant squeaking. He needed a job. For that, he needed a car. He needed money to fix his car. He needed a job to get that money. And he still had to find some way of paying Vader that three weeks' worth of rent before she kicked him out. Just what the fuck was he supposed to _do_? After losing his rhythm and nearly falling off a treadmill for the third time, he admitted defeat and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading for the showers.

The gym was quiet at this time of day, and the showers were deserted. Batter stripped off and stepped under the nearest showerhead, exhaling as the steady stream hit his body, its warmth quickly beginning to work out the knots in his shoulders and back. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, and tried to think. As much as he hated to admit it, Pablo's weird sex shop – what was it called? The Switch, or something – seemed like his best bet. Pablo was irritating, but he was oddly shrewd about one thing at least; Batter needed this job. Even if his car had still been in working order, another freak on a bike was not about to throw himself under Batter's wheels and offer him a better option. Batter made a mental note to check out the shop on his way home from practice.

It was then that he realised he had no idea where the place was, and he had thrown away the card Pablo had given him. Batter slammed his fist against the wall. "Shit!" he yelled. So much for that. God damn it, why couldn't anything ever go the way it should? Fuming, Batter shut off the shower and trekked over to where he'd left his gym bag. He grabbed his towel and angrily dried his hair before wrapping it around his waist while he dug for his clothes.

"Bad day?"

Batter looked up, clutching his balled-up shirt. There was someone sitting further down the bench, hazy in the steam. Batter's cheeks coloured slightly when he realised the guy must have heard his shout, as well as his subsequent curses due to the fact that he'd just smashed his batting hand against a concrete wall.

"You could say that," he said shortly, watching the stranger out of the corner of his eye as he turned back to his bag and continued fishing for his pants.

The guys face was obscured as he towelled off his dark hair. "Want to talk about it?" he asked.

Batter looked at him again. God, what was it about today? Had he picked up a freak magnet somewhere? "Not really." He found his jeans and shook them out. The denim made a satisfying snap, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

The guy chuckled. "Alright then, forget I asked." He turned away to do something Batter couldn't see. Batter watched him as nonchalantly as he could, his curiosity piqued despite himself. Just who was this guy? He racked his brains, but he didn't think he'd ever seen him before.

When the guy turned back his face was covered by an eerily grinning mask. Batter stared at him for a moment, then looked away with a sigh of resignation. Yeah. He was a freak magnet today, alright. The masked male leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles.

"Sure there's nothing I can do for you, _amigo_?" he asked conversationally.

Batter looked over at him again, this time letting his eyes wander over what he could see of the stranger's body. He was paler than Batter, and lean where Batter was solid, but not unpleasantly so. He had a second towel draped around his waist, but that was all; his bare torso was smooth and lightly muscled. Tattoos ran across his chest and down his arms, and piercings glinted in his ears. Batter felt his dick begin to stir beneath the towel and he licked his lips. God, the freak was _hot_. Shame about the mask though; that grinning thing was putting him off. He waved at it, still clutching his jeans.

"What's with the mask?"

"What, this old thing?" The stranger pointed at his mask, unnecessarily. "Protection."

Batter raised an eyebrow. "From what, exactly?"

"From getting jumped by guys like you, in places like this," he said evenly. "If I walked around without it, I wouldn't be able to go anywhere without people tryin' to put their dicks in my gorgeous mouth."

Batter snorted.

"What, you don't believe me?" The guy made a disparaging sound and sat back, spreading his arms. "Come on, I'm practically sex on legs. Admit it. You'd love a piece of this, wouldn't you?"

"No thanks," Batter said. He let his towel drop to the floor and pulled on his boxers.

"What?"

"You heard me."

The guy lowered his arms. "What the fuck is your problem, man?"

"_I'm_ the one with the problem?" Batter scoffed, struggling into his jeans. "I'm not the one trying to pick up an easy fuck in the gym showers."

"_An easy_- whoa, hold on, what the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Batter ignored him. He finished lacing his shoes, threw his shirt on, and made for the door; he had neither the time nor the patience to argue with a freak in a mask, and if he stayed a moment longer he was sure his head was going to explode. The fact that he was also painfully hard didn't help, but he wasn't going to think about that right now. He shouldered his way through the door, Mask-Face spewing a variety of curses at his back, each more colourful than the last. He let out a sigh of relief when it closed behind him, cutting the obnoxious sound off completely. What he needed now was quiet, or better yet, something to hit. _Or fuck_.

He ignored that last thought, leaving the gym and turning left towards the library. There were still a few hours before practice; he could use the time to study, maybe make up for those lectures he had missed.

But when he sat down and spread out his books, all he could think about was the guy from the showers. The curve of his shoulders. His taut stomach. The beads of moisture on his skin. The shape of his neck, the sharp line of his collarbone, how his body had moved so expressively, as if to make up for the lack of a real face… how badly Batter had wanted to push him up against that shower wall and fuck him senseless. Christ, he hadn't felt like that in ages. Scratch that; he'd _never_ felt like this. He wasn't the kind of guy who got off on the idea of screwing random strangers in public showers, he just… _wasn't_. Yet here was, trying desperately to focus on the pages of meaningless squiggles in front of him while sporting the biggest boner he'd had in months.

Batter shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced around the library. He was on the top floor so it was more or less empty; the only books up here were obscure biblical texts, and hardly any people deemed the study space worthy of the hideous climb up the stairs.

There was a men's toilet just outside, in the stairwell. Batter eyed the door for a moment, before dragging his eyes back to the books in front of him. This was ridiculous; what was he, some horny teenager? He could deal with this. He _would_ deal with this. He-

His cock gave a painful throb, straining against his jeans. Batter swore under his breath. Nope, nope, it was no good. He had to do something about this, before he fucking exploded. He pushed his chair back and stood, walking to the bathroom as quickly as he could. Once inside he ducked into the cubicle against the far wall and bolted the door, leaning against it as he undid his jeans.

Batter sighed in relief as he pulled his swollen cock through the slit in his boxers. The head was flushed and already oozing translucent precum; he slid the pad of his thumb over his slit and pumped his hand slowly, once, twice, groaning into the touch. His hips rocked slightly as he took up a steady pace, his fist tight and hot around his slick shaft. He thought of the guy in the showers, he thought of him pinned against the wall, Batter holding his wrists above his head tightly enough to bruise, his other hand around his cock, biting his tattooed shoulder as he fucked him-

Batter came with a loud "_Fuck_!", his cum spurting out in hot white ropes. His hips jerked and his knees gave out, and he slid down the door, landing heavily on his ass. Batter let his head fall back against the door, giving his cock a last few lazy pumps. "Fuck," he said again, this time in a whisper. "Jesus, fuck…"

He cleaned up quickly, as if by wiping away the evidence he could somehow deny the fact that he had just come harder than he had ever done in his life – and he had done it by thinking of a guy in a freaky frog mask. The roll was almost empty by the time he finished dealing with the mess, and he had a moment of panic when he tried to flush the enormous wad of toilet paper and it began to swell ominously.

"Oh shit," he swore, flapping his hands ineffectually at the gurgling toilet. "Oh shit, go down, go down…"

Luckily, the universe seemed to have decided that Batter had had enough bad luck for one day. The sodden lump disappeared down the toilet with a triumphant sucking noise, and Batter returned to his desk in the library. This time he had no trouble focusing on his books.

.

He had somewhat less luck by the time practice rolled around.

"Where's your head at, boy?" the coach roared, when Batter missed his fifth easy swing in a row. Batter bit back a sarcastic retort and shrugged. "Go home, come back when you can hit a fucking ball!"

Batter was only too glad to. He stomped off the pitch with the rest of the team sniggering behind him. In the changing shed he tore off his cap and threw it to the ground. His bat followed it, clattering noisily on the concrete floor. Where was his head? His head was back in that shower room, with the nameless guy in the mask, fucking his tight ass until he screamed. Why couldn't he stop thinking about it? Why couldn't he just-

"FUCK!" Batter screamed, clutching at his hair like a madman. "Get out of my HEAD!"

He sat down, breathing heavily, and ripped his mud-caked shoes off, flinging them away in disgust. His shirt and pants soon followed them, and he was left sitting in his socks and boxers. Batter pulled his bag towards him and shook out his jeans. Something fell out of a back pocket and fluttered to the ground. Batter frowned, leaned forwards, and picked it up.

"The OFF Switch," he read. _What_? He blinked. He'd thrown this away, hadn't he? But Pablo had caught it, and suddenly Batter realised what must have happened. He laughed, shaking his head in wonder. "Pablo, you utter bastard. You snuck it into my pocket and copped a feel at the same time, didn't you?" Batter laughed again as he pulled his jeans on, before giving the card a quick kiss and shoving it deep into a front pocket. This was exactly what he needed; something to keep him busy and take his mind off Shower Guy. The fact that he would be working with Pablo, whose endless blabbering would easily keep Batter's dick as soft as butter, only sweetened the deal. As soon as he had his shirt on and all his training gear stuffed into his bag he was out the door, making for The OFF Switch.

The sun was sinking towards the skyline as he turned down Shachihata Road. He had wondered why the address on the card seemed familiar, and now he realised it was because he passed the road it was on every day on his way to and from campus. It was no wonder he had never been down it before, though – it seemed like every door he passed led into some seedy pub or strip club or the devil only knew what, but it was fairly early by their standards so Batter figured there was little chance of him being dragged into someplace he didn't belong. He found the Switch a few blocks in, opposite a flashy strip joint with 'Zone X' emblazoned over the doors in enormous neon lights. Despite the early hour he could hear the pulsing beat of club music bleeding from the blacked-out windows, and there was a steady stream of eager patrons being drip-fed through the doors by a monolithic bouncer.

The OFF Switch, on the other hand… well. For starters, Batter wouldn't even have known it was open if it weren't for the tiny sign on the door, the words 'The Switch is ON' picked out in sadly flickering LEDs. The black-out on the windows looked like it had been done in the 90's; when Batter looked closer he could see faded newsprint where the black paint had peeled away. He pulled the card out of his pocket and peered at it again, half hoping that he was in the wrong place. But of course, he wasn't; unfortunately for Batter, it looked like the universe still had a few nasty little surprises up its metaphorical sleeve. He scoffed and shoved the card back into his pocket.

"What a dump," he snarled. And Pablo had said he'd be the perfect person to work here. Just what had the little creep been implying?

He considered turning around and leaving then, but the thought of Vader waiting to pounce on him as soon as he set foot inside the building stopped him. And anyway, he'd come all this way, and what other options did he have? Lose his apartment, move back in with his parents? He almost laughed aloud. No way in Hell was _that_ going to happen.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst, Batter pushed the door open and stepped into the shop. A small bell tinkled above his head as the door closed behind him, announcing his arrival to… well, no one, because the shop appeared to be completely deserted. Batter sighed and looked around, surprised to find that, despite its depressing exterior, the shop itself was actually pretty cool – albeit a little weird. But what had he expected really, with someone like Pablo working here. The place was a lot larger than it had appeared from outside and was lit by rows of long fluorescent tube-lights, pink, purple, orange and venomous green. Patterned paper covered the walls in corresponding colours, splitting the room into what Batter soon realised were totally arbitrary sections. There was no cohesion to the place at all. Batter passed a shelf of dildos, each a different but equally alarming shade of pink, along with a preserving jar filled with what looked like tentacles. He stared at it with horrified fascination. The tentacles stirred in their formaldehyde bath when he tapped the glass.

"Please refrain from touching the artifacts," said a familiar voice. "Especially those marked- oh, it's you! Hello!"

Batter turned to see Pablo come bustling out from a curtained area behind the counter, carrying a box of Batter-wasn't-sure-he-wanted-to-know-what. He set the box down and hurried over to him, grinning widely.

"Uh, yeah," Batter said, as Pablo flung an arm around Batter's shoulders and guided him towards the counter. "Hi. Were those real tentacles?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, yes, of course!" Pablo said, sounding affronted by the mere suggestion that he would be selling _fake_ tentacles. "They were salvaged from a museum that burned down in the 60's, along with Old Bessie over there." He jerked his thumb in the direction of a slightly charred stuffed python, which was draped over a rack of leather riding crops. "Why do you ask? I wouldn't have pinned you as being into that kind of thing, but hey, I'm not one to judge a guy on his kinks."

Batter's imagination actually shut down at that point. Pablo laughed and pinched his cheek. "I'm joking. But seriously, you get all kinds in here. So what do you think? Can you hack it here, Batter Boy?"

"Uh," Batter said weakly. He'd just spotted a strait-jacket hanging alongside the bondage gear in the purple section, along with what looked like a WWII gas mask. Pablo followed his gaze, saw what he was looking at, and gave Batter a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"You'll get used to it," he said kindly. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the family. Oi, Zacharie!" Pablo yelled, making Batter wince. "Get your perky ass out here and meet the new guy!"

"What?" came an answering yell from behind the curtain. "What fucking new guy?"

Pablo glanced at Batter and gave him a wink. "Just get out here, you tattooed fuck! Zacharie's a real charmer, you'll love him," he added in an undertone to Batter. Batter, meanwhile, was beginning to regret not killing Pablo with his truck when he'd had the chance.

"_God_ you're a pain in my ass."

"Ha, in your dreams!"

"You disgust me. Alright, I'm coming. Just stop talking, you're gonna make me puke in my mouth."

The curtains parted and Zacharie backed into the room, carrying a second box. He turned, saw Batter, and froze.

"You," he whispered. He dropped the box in disgust and kicked it towards Pablo's. Batter stared. The mask, the messy black hair, the tattoos… Batter couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was him, the guy from the showers. He almost laughed, the whole situation was so ridiculous. Of course, of _course_ he would end up working with the _fucking shower guy_. "What the fuck is he doing here?" Zacharie hissed to Pablo, pointing at Batter. Batter had never heard someone sound so furious. It was oddly satisfying.

"Zacharie, this is Batter," said Pablo, utterly oblivious to the rapidly thickening tension between the two males. "Batter, Zacharie. You'll be working the late shift together."

"What?" they said as one.

"No we fucking won't," Zacharie snarled. "No way am I working with Mr I'm-Too-Good-To-Fuck-A-Random-Yet-Outrageously-Att ractive-Guy-In-The-Gym-Showers."

"What?" Pablo said, looking from one to the other. "Wait, you guys know each other?"

"Not really," Batter said, doing his best to ignore Zacharie, who looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "So, about the job-"

"There's no job," Zacharie interrupted. "We've got all the staff we need, and you know that, Pablo! Why the fuck did you bring this guy here?"

Pablo finally removed his arm from around Batter's shoulders and leaned over the counter, grabbing the neck of Zacharie's shirt to drag him down with him.

"Listen," Batter heard Pablo hiss. "The thing is… I may or may not have wrecked his car this morning."

"Jesus Christ, Pablo!"

"I know, I know! He wanted me to pay for it, so I offered him a job here instead."

"What fucking job, Pablo? Dedan will flip his shit if he finds out!"

"Oh come on! You and I both know the new guy isn't going to last much longer. He doesn't have it in him. Sooner or later Dedan's going to tear him a new one and he'll be out of here like a Mormon out of a gay bar. I have a good feeling about this guy. He's tough, he knows how to work hard, and he _needs_ this job, Zach. Anyway, what's this about you guys fucking in a shower? You never fucked _me_ in a shower…" he trailed off, giving Zacharie a mournful look.

"No one's fucking anyone in a shower," Zacharie said loudly, standing up. "And there's no job here, so you can kindly fuck off, my good sir." This was directed at Batter, who he dismissed with a curt wave of his hand.

Batter didn't move. Zacharie made an exasperated noise, but whatever he was about to say next was cut off as the curtains flew open and a blurred figure came hurtling out. All three of them stared as a high school aged kid skidded to a halt beside Zacharie and glanced around at them with a look of absolute terror on his bloodless face. A barrage of muffled curses erupted behind him.

"Screwed up the inventory, did you?" Pablo asked cheerfully. The boy nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

"Run," Zacharie told him. "Now."

The boy didn't need telling twice. He tore off his name tag and bolted – and not a moment too soon, for a second later the curtains were flung apart again and a tall, dark-skinned man swept into the room. His eyes lit on Batter, and he raised his hand and pointed imperiously at him.

"You!" he barked. "Can you read?"

Pablo and Zacharie both looked at him.

"Yes, sir," Batter blurted reflexively.

"Outstanding! You're hired." The man shoved a clipboard towards him. "Get to work!"

Batter took the clipboard dazedly and the man – Dedan, he supposed – swept out again. He glanced at Pablo.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"You just got hired, my friend," Pablo grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work and you'll be up for a promotion in no time!"

"But… I didn't do anything," Batter floundered as Pablo took him by the shoulders and steered him around the counter and towards the curtained area. Zacharie stepped out of their way, throwing his hands up in disgust. Batter tried and failed to ignore the way the movement made the male's shirt ride up, exposing his stomach and the tops of his hip bones.

"Well, then, just keep doing that," Pablo said cheerfully, as if this sort of thing happened every other day. Was everyone in this shop completely mad? "Ah, here we are…"

The back room was about half the size of the shop itself. There was an office door down the end, on the left hand side, and a staircase beyond that. The entire right-side wall was devoted to rank upon rank of steel shelving units, most of which were empty. The floor, on the other hand, was all but invisible under the sea of haphazardly stacked boxes. Batter's felt his face visibly pale when he realised that it was probably going to be his job to sort through this ridiculous mess, and he glanced at Pablo in horror. Pablo nodded sympathetically and tapped the clipboard in Batter's hand.

"Just make sure all the numbers match up," he said. "Then sort everything onto the shelves, according to colour. It's bitch work, but you _are_ the new guy so I'm afraid this is what you'll be stuck with for a while." He scratched his jaw in thought. "Yeah, that's about it. If Dedan yells at you, don't worry. That's how he shows affection. Just stick to what's on the clipboard and you'll be fine. Alright?"

"Yeah, I think so," Batter said, still slightly dazed.

"Excellent!" Pablo clapped his hands together, grinning widely. "I'll be out front if you need me. Business ought to be picking up soon." With that he shot Batter another sly wink and went back to the shop, giving Batter a generous view of his ass as he walked. Batter rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the boxes at his feet.

"Right," he muttered. "Let's see what we have in box number one…"

.

Batter set the last box on its proper shelf and stood back to admire his handiwork, wiping his forehead. After just over an hour of work he had seen more dildos, toys, and weird shit in jars than most people saw in their entire lives, and his skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat from lifting and placing the sometimes incredibly heavy boxes. A few had been excess to what he had on his clipboard, so he had put those aside for now. He figured they were to be used to restock the shop; Pablo would know. Batter turned to pick up the nearest one, and almost jumped – Zacharie was leaning against the shelf with his arms folded, watching him intently.

"Jesus," Batter said. "You almost gave me a heart attack. How long have you been standing there?" He hadn't even heard him come in. It was a little unnerving. Zacharie tilted his head slightly.

"I don't like you," he said, ignoring Batter's question completely. Batter grunted and folded his own arms.

"Good to know the feeling's mutual."

"Yeah, you bet your ass it is." Zacharie pushed himself off the shelf and stepped towards Batter. Batter eyeballed him as he approached – or rather, he eyeballed the painted eyes on Zacharie's weird-ass frog mask, and found himself wondering how the fuck he could see anything with that thing over his face. "Listen here, asshole," he said, grabbing the front of Batter's shirt and pulling him close. "You ever call me a slut again, I'll fucking end you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Batter said. "I never-"

"Back at the gym, you said I was looking for an easy fuck," Zacharie spat, twisting Batter's shirt in his fist. "Well, you're wrong. I'm not some cheap whore who spreads his legs for any guy that comes along. _Capisce_?"

Batter sneered. "Just who are trying to convince? Me, or yourself?"

"Ugh! You're such an idiot, you know that?" Zacharie released Batter's shirt with a harsh shove. Batter stumbled backwards, but didn't fall.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he almost yelled. "Why do you care what I think?" He'd never encountered someone so frustrating in his life. God, was anyone in this place even the slightest bit sane?

"You know what?" Zacharie said, throwing his hands up. "Forget it. You're obviously a complete moron, I don't know why I wasted my time even trying to speak to you." He turned to leave.

"Whoa, what?" Batter grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him back around to face him. "What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Zacharie shrugged Batter's hand away and pushed his mask back just enough to expose his lips. "Read my fucking lips, you cretin," he said, pointing at his mouth. "I am _not_ a sl-"

Batter didn't wait to hear the rest. He stepped forward, seized Zacharie's chin and crushed their mouths together. Zacharie's lips softened briefly against his as he leaned into the violent kiss, before he pulled back, shoving Batter away again.

"What the _fuck_," he spluttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I said _read_ my lips, not…" Batter could see his throat working as he swallowed. "Not… ah, fuck it," he said, grabbing Batter's shirt in both fists and pulling him into another harsh kiss. Batter almost lost his balance but he quickly recovered, wrapping his hands around Zacharie's wrists and pushing him up against the shelves. Zacharie moaned at the feeling of Batter's firm body pressing into him, and Batter's tongue slid over his lips and into his mouth.

"Get… your fucking shirt off," Zacharie panted against Batter's mouth, pulling at the thin fabric. Batter released Zacharie's wrists and struggled out of his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. "Oh, fuuuuuck," Zacharie breathed, running his hands over the bare skin. "You weren't in that gym just to sightsee, were you?"

Batter grabbed Zacharie's waist and pushed him harder into the shelf, gently biting the smaller male's neck. "Is that what you were doing?" he murmured, trailing his lips up to Zacharie's ear. He mouthed one of his piercings, and Zacharie bit back a moan. "Sightseeing?"

Zacharie bit his lip and nodded, tilting his head back as Batter began to kiss his way back down his neck.

"See anything you liked?" Batter asked. Zacharie's fingers dug into his shoulders and his hips jerked as Batter sunk his teeth into the crook of his neck and sucked hard enough to bruise.

"Oh, god, _yes_," Zacharie groaned. Batter smiled around his mouthful of Zacharie's skin, before releasing it and claiming his mouth again. The kiss was rough and desperate, all teeth and tongues and heat, and Zacharie's hands fumbled at Batter's belt. "Just – fuck me already, would you?" he whispered between kisses. Batter slid his hands up Zacharie's sides, pulling his shirt up, and Zacharie took his hands away from Batter's pants just long enough to raise his arms and let Batter peel his shirt off and throw it to the ground beside his own. Then he hooked his fingers through Batter's belt loops and pulled their bodies flush together, and they both gasped at the feeling of skin, slick against skin. They kissed, tongues sliding over tongues, as Zacharie finally got Batter's jeans undone and began to grind against his tented boxers.

"Ah- _god_," Batter panted. "Why the _fuck_ have you still got your jeans on?"

"Fucking take them off, then," Zacharie breathed, kissing the underside of Batter's jaw. Batter shivered and all but tore Zacharie's jeans open, grinding against his clothed erection. Zacharie reached down and slipped his hand into Batter's boxers. "Jesus Christ you're hard," he hissed, pulling Batter's cock out of his boxers. He slicked his hand over the oozing head and down Batter's shaft. Batter bucked his hips, groaning as he fucked himself into Zacharie's hand.

"_Ha_- well, whose fucking fault is- _hn_- that?" he panted, pulling Zacharie's cock out and mirroring his actions.

"Ah!" Zacharie gasped, releasing Batter's cock to pull him down into another rough kiss. "I fucking hate you," he growled, biting down on Batter's lip as he rocked his hips up, rutting their slick erections against each other. Batter was pressing him so hard against the shelf that he could feel the metal cutting into his back, but he couldn't have cared less – it felt so fucking _good_. Batter's hands were back on his waist and his nails were digging into Zacharie's flushed skin as he quickened his pace, breathing hard, and the shelving unit began to shake with the force of his thrusts. He took one hand off Zacharie to grip the shelf above him as a box toppled off and spilled its contents onto the floor. They barely noticed. They had fallen into a perfect rhythm, grinding and rutting as they sought all the friction they could take. Batter felt his muscles tense and heat begin to coil in the pit of his stomach, and knew that he wouldn't last much longer. Their thrusts became more erratic. Zacharie clung to him, and when he bit down on his shoulder Batter came in great, trembling spurts all over Zacharie's smooth, pale torso. He felt Zacharie groan, his teeth clamping down on Batter's skin hard enough to draw blood, and a second later he came as well, his hot seed splattering Batter's stomach.

"F-fuck you," Zacharie gasped, licking the blood from Batter's shoulder. Their hips jerked unsteadily a few more times as the tingling warmth of their afterglow spread through their bodies. Batter kept his hand on the shelf, gripping it so hard his knuckles stood out white and the steel bit into his palm. He didn't budge when Zacharie pushed half-heartedly at his chest.

"Why do you do this to me?" Batter murmured, wiping his blood from the corner of Zacharie's mouth. "I haven't been able to think straight since I met you. What is it about you?"

Zacharie wiped Batter's touch from his mouth with the back of his hand. His lip curled. "My shining personality? How the fuck should I know? Maybe you just have a thing for guys in masks. Did you get hard watching the Phantom of the Opera?"

Batter ignored that. "Why do you wear that thing, anyway?" he asked, reaching for Zacharie's mask. Zacharie jerked away with a snarl, tugging it down over his mouth again.

"Touch my mask and I'll kill you," he said, speaking with so much conviction that Batter pulled his hand away almost as a reflex. Zacharie tried to shuffle past him, but Batter stepped in to block him. "What the fuck? Let me out, asshole!" He shoved Batter again, harder this time. Batter grabbed his wrist. He wasn't sure why, and he didn't know what he would done if at that moment the door to the office hadn't opened to reveal a very pissed-off looking Dedan. They both looked at him in horror.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" he snapped, before his eyes fell on their exposed cocks and cum-splattered torsos. "Oh for the love of-" he disappeared back into his office and returned a second later with a spray bottle. Batter and Zacharie yelped, jumping apart as they were spritzed with cold water like a couple of cats in heat.

"How many times do I have to fucking say this?" Dedan raged, emphasising each word with a squirt from the bottle. "No hanky-panky in my goddamn storeroom!"

"Alright, Jesus!" Zacharie yelled, tucking himself back in and zipping up his jeans. Batter quickly did the same, then bent to rescue his shirt before it got any more soaked. Dedan gave them a final spritz, made a satisfied noise, and retreated back into his office, slamming the door behind him. Zacharie flung something at the door – one of the dildos from the box that had fallen off the shelf, Batter saw – then ducked through a second door that Batter hadn't noticed earlier. He returned a moment later, clean and damp, and tossed a roll of toilet paper towards him. "There," he said curtly. "Clean yourself up and get the fuck out."

Batter caught it easily, tore off a generous strip and began to wipe himself down, cheeks burning. Zacharie didn't seem at all perturbed by the situation; annoyed, perhaps, but not nearly as uncomfortable or embarrassed as Batter. And from what Dedan had said, Batter had to assume that this was a fairly regular occurrence.

"So, uh… you and Pablo, huh?" Batter said, balling the cum-laden toilet paper in his fist.

Zacharie shot him a look, his shirt half on, half off. "Well," he began conversationally, slipping his shirt over his head and tugging it down. "See - what you have to understand about that is it's none of your fucking business."

"I think you just made it my fucking business," Batter countered, gesturing towards the shelves.

Zacharie snorted. "Why? Because we just got each other off in some dingy storeroom? _Please_."

Batter couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You know," he said, folding his arms. "For someone who doesn't like to be called a slut, you sure are acting a hell of a lot like one."

"Fuck you!" Zacharie yelled.

"Jeez, what the hell is going on down there?"

Zacharie froze. "Oh, shit." He looked around as a blonde girl came padding down the stairs behind him.

"Zacharie? If you and Pablo are screwin' in the storeroom again I swear to god I'll- oh." She came to a halt in the middle of the stairs, her huge blue eyes fixed on Batter. Her hair was done up in messy pigtails, and she was wearing nothing but an oversized tee and a pair of candy-striped thigh-high socks. She leaned over the railing. "Who is _that_?" she whispered to Zacharie, her eyes never leaving Batter. Batter felt the heat in his face increase when he realised he was still clutching his shirt stupidly in his hands. He tossed the wad of toilet paper to the floor and quickly struggled into his shirt, feeling the girl's intent gaze on him all the while.

"He's no one," Zacharie said quickly. "The new guy, that's all."

"Oh?" the girl blinked, propping her chin on her hand. "What happened to Elsen?"

"Dedan happened," Zacharie replied. "Shouldn't you be in bed? You have school tomorrow…"

"That's a shame," the girl sighed, ignoring the thinly-veiled hint. "He was a sweetie. Cute, too. What's your name, handsome?" she called to Batter.

"Batter," he said. She smiled. There was a slight gap between her front teeth.

"The name's Sugar," she purred.

"Give it a rest, Sugar," Zacharie said wearily. "He's queer."

Sugar giggled. "Oh, I know, darlin'. I was just bein' friendly." She frowned then, a slight crease appearing between her pale brows. "Wait, did you say your name was Batter?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "Like, baseball?"

Batter nodded. What the hell was going on? And why did Zacharie look like he was about to punch something?

Sugar's eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing. "I don't believe it!" she crowed, reaching over the rail and tugging on Zacharie's sleeve. "Zach, you actually found him! The Baseball Guy!"

"Oh, would you look at the time," Zacharie yelled, darting around the staircase and pushing Sugar back up the way she had come. "Off to bed with you, sweetheart…"

"Why is everyone shouting?" came another voice from the room above.

"Oh, great," Zacharie muttered. He gave up trying to push Sugar – who was still giggling uncontrollably – up the stairs, and fell back against the wall and folded his arms. Batter had never seen a grinning mask look so disgruntled. "Just fucking perfect."

A guy who was almost the spitting image of Pablo came down the stairs, stopped a little ways above Sugar, and leaned over the railing. "Zacharie, what the hell have you done now?"

"Me?" Zacharie said indignantly. "Not a fucking thing!"

"Val!" Sugar squealed. She leaped up the stairs, grabbed the Pablo lookalike by the arm and hauled him back down the stairs. "Elsen just got fired, and this guy's replacing him!" She pointed at Batter. "His name is _Batter_," she said pointedly.

Val looked at Batter in surprise, then back to Sugar. "The Baseball Guy?"

Sugar clapped her hands in excitement, jumping up and down. "Yes!" she squealed. Zacharie groaned like a dying man. "Say hi to Val, Batter!"

"Hey," Batter said dazedly. The situation just kept on getting more and more bizarre. Who were all these people, and how did they all seem to know who he was?

Val nodded, eyeing Batter curiously for a moment before turning back to Sugar and Zacharie. "Hugo is trying to sleep," he told them, his voice oozing disapproval, "so if you could keep it down-"

"No I'm not!" yet another voice interrupted. A high school-aged kid appeared at the top of the stairs. His tousled hair was the colour of honey and it fell into his eyes as he leaned over the railing, wearing nothing but a pair of red satin boxers. "What's going on? Did Zacharie do something?"

"Why does everyone always assume _I've_ done something?" Zacharie complained. Everyone ignored him.

"Batter, this is Hugo," Sugar said brightly. "Hugo, Batter."

"The Baseball Guy?"

"Yes!" all three of them chorused, Zacharie doing so loudly and incredibly sarcastically.

"Wow!" Hugo said, ogling Batter like he was a particularly interesting zoo exhibit. "What's he doing here?"

"He works here now," Sugar gushed. "Isn't it great?"

"Oh, brilliant! Wow, you were right, Zach, he really is-"

"Leaving!" Zacharie bellowed. He pushed himself off the stairs and strode over to Batter, taking him by the shoulders and marching him towards the curtain. "He was just leaving, weren't you, Batter?"

"Uh…"

Unfortunately Pablo chose that exact moment to come through the curtain, almost colliding with Batter and Zacharie in their hurry to escape. "Oh good, you're done," Pablo said brightly. "I was just coming to get you- hey, what's everyone doing down here?" he cried, looking over Zacharie's shoulder at the crowd on the stairs. "Did I miss something?"

"This is all your fault," Zacharie hissed at Pablo. "Why'd you have to bring him here, huh?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Zacharie," Pablo said evenly, pushing them both back into the storeroom. "Batter, I'm so sorry about all this. These people have no idea how to behave like civilised individuals."

"It's fine," Batter said quickly. Pablo hushed him with a dismissive and extremely gay flick of his hand.

"No, it isn't fine at all. I didn't want to do this until he agreed to take the job, but I suppose now will have to do. You've already met Zacharie."

"Oh he's met him alright! Wooooooo!"

"_That_ charming young woman would be Sugar," Pablo said, while Batter blushed furiously. "Beside her is Valerie-"

"It's Val."

"-my dear, sweet little brother-"

"We're twins."

"-and beside him is baby Hugo."

Hugo, who couldn't have been much younger than 17, rolled his eyes. "We already introduced ourselves, Pabs."

Pablo blinked. "You did? Well, alright then! That's great. Off to bed, kids; the grownups have work to do."

"We're literally the same age," Val said wearily.

"Yeah, we're not going anywhere," Sugar pouted, grabbing Hugo by the waistband of his boxers as he started to climb the stairs. "Not until we know that the Baseball G- I mean, that _Batter_ is really going to be working here."

Pablo sighed. "Oh, very well." He turned sharply to face Batter, appraising him with dark, keen eyes. "What do you say, Batter?" he asked. "Will you stay?"

Batter looked around at them all; Val in his neatly buttoned shirt, his brows pinched together in a way that made him look permanently concerned; Hugo, struggling to free himself from Sugar's grip without losing his boxers in the process; Sugar gazing at him through her lashes, smirking coyly; Pablo, with his messy hair sticking up like cat's ears… and Zacharie, sulking against the shelves, his expression unreadable behind his grinning mask. He was the most mercurial person Batter had ever met, and easily the most frustrating… but at the same time, there was something about him, some mystery that itched to be unravelled. It wasn't just the mask – though that would have mystery enough in itself. It was the way everything about him seemed to push and pull, attract and repel, and Batter knew that if he walked away now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He wanted to get under Zacharie's skin like he'd never wanted anything before.

Zacharie's mask moved almost imperceptibly, but somehow Batter knew that he was watching him, waiting to see what he would do.

Finally, Batter nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I will."

Zacharie looked away again as Hugo and Sugar both whooped and punched the air and Val shook his head, trying – without much success – not to laugh at their antics.

"Glad to hear it," Pablo said, grinning from ear to ear. He took Batter's hand and shook it heartily. His eyes gleamed, and Batter suddenly wondered what exactly he was getting himself into. Every single person in this place seemed completely insane – perhaps with the exception of Val, though maybe he was just better at hiding it. "Right!" Pablo barked. "You've got your answer, you implacable young hooligans! Now, off to bed! _Avanti, avanti_!"

Batter cracked a smile as he watched Pablo chase Sugar, Hugo and Val up the stairs and out of sight.

"If you hurt any of them," Zacharie said quietly, in the silence that followed. "I will cut you into pieces and feed you to the alley cats."

Batter looked at him. "If I hurt any of them, I'll let you do worse than that," he said, just as quietly.

He would have given anything to know what kind of expression Zacharie's mask was hiding as he pushed himself off the shelves and walked towards the curtain.

"See you tomorrow, then," Zacharie murmured as he passed him, giving him a languid wave. "Oh, and Batter?"

Batter turned to see Zacharie poised in the doorway, his mask purple in the light spilling through the parted curtain. He tilted his head, and Batter had the strange feeling that he was smiling.

"Welcome to The OFF Switch."

.

**The Switch is now on PAUSE**

* * *

**That's all for now. I hope you enjoyed it! If you want to see more, leave a review below, along with your suggestion. You can give me a pairing and a situation you want to see them in, or just a pairing, or just a situation. Give me nothing, and I'm afraid the fun stops here...**


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